Re-Mind Me
by Blue Teller
Summary: The Promised Day is finally over, and Alphonse Elric has been fully restored. Everything's great now, except… Why does it feel like he's lost more than he gained? Why is there a strange void inside Al's heart? And who's the boy in the red coat that keeps following him around…?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

Warmth.

Such a simple thing, and yet, it meant so much. It was everywhere, surrounding him; the most wonderful of sensations. He hadn't felt so good since… well, he couldn't remember at the moment, but it must have been a while, judging from the way his whole body melted with pleasure. He sighed softly in content, which instantly got his attention too. Why was he so relieved to just _breathe_? Maybe because he could do it in peace, now that everything was finally over.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. At first he was momentarily blinded by the light. Then the sight of multiple smiling faces greeted him.

"Look, he's wake!"

"You okay, Alphonse?"

"Mr. Zampano, Mr. Darius… Everyone…" he whispered. They were all beaming at him, their expressions filled with purest joy. Al's own heart swelled with happiness in response. His eyes wandered around the people, finally resting on one person he didn't expect to be here, but was delighted to see nonetheless. "Dad!"

Hohenheim smiled and reached out for him. "Welcome back, Alphonse."

Al sat up and took the offered hand with his own, noticing how amazingly warm it felt against his skin.

"Yeah…" he responded with the same smile, eagerly absorbing all of the sensations: the shape of his father's palm, the softness of grass beneath, the smoothness of the black blanket on top of him (probably transmuted from a military coat), the light breeze against his skin. He quenched his indescribable thirst for those feelings within him, drunk on them as if he hadn't experienced any for ages. He didn't know how to explain it, but he didn't care. For now, all he chose to focus on was the hand gently held by the man next to him.

"It really is _back_ …" Al breathed out in disbelief and euphoria. He experimentally moved his feet and discovered that both of his legs were present too. "All of it…"

"That's right," Hohenheim smiled at him again, however there was a hint of sadness in it. But before Al had time to puzzle over it, it vanished. "You should take it easy for now, Alphonse. The Gate took a lot of energy out of you."

Al blinked and realized that his father was right. Indeed, his whole body felt exhausted.

"Alphonse!" somebody cried from behind the crowd and before Al knew what was happening, he was barreled in a tight hug from a small girl, still covered in blood and dirt from the battle.

"Alphonse, I-" May Chang buried her face in his chest and sobbed. "I was so s-scared!"

"I'm sorry, May…" Al was uncertain what to say – he suddenly discovered he couldn't exactly remember what occurred before him re-emerging from the Gate. Actually, now that he thought about it, his memory was awfully fuzzy in a lot of places, especially the battle with Father. But he felt that he should comfort his hysterical friend first, and worry about details later. So he put those musings away for the time being and smiling gently, Alphonse returned May's embrace. "It's okay, I'm alright, see? We're all fine. Everything's okay now."

She sniffled, still clutching to him desperately. Al rubbed her back soothingly. He looked up and his eyes met Hohenheim's. There was something bittersweet in the ancient man's expression, as if he was tempted to cry as well. Al surely hoped it wouldn't come to this. He couldn't stand to watch people cry…

 _...Hohenheim's tears stream down, shining in the dim light of campfire, his grief-stricken face turned to the dark sky..._

Al blinked. _What…?_ He furrowed his brow in puzzlement. He'd seen his father cry before? When? The only instance he could recall was captured on the family photo, but he was too young to remember that.

Wait… The family photo…?

Al grunted quietly and rubbed his forehead in confusion.

He couldn't remember the photo. Why? He remembered it existed – the only photo that showed their whole family together. He knew his father was crying in the picture, and Alphonse wondered countless times about the reason. But now, he couldn't even…

"Are you alright, Alphonse?" Hohenheim asked with concern.

Al blinked. "I… think so…" he said slowly, but without much certainty.

Only now he realized something was bothering him – had been bothering him ever since he woke up. His mind was all over the place. It was difficult for him to focus on any specific memory. Everything was blurred, only vague impressions available to his consciousness. It was frustrating. He searched for something he could hold onto and focus on to find his lost track of thought, but nothing was within his mind's reach.

Suddenly, wariness washed over his body. _Maybe dad's right… maybe I'm just tired…_

"You look like you're ready to pass out," Zampano commented, supporting him by the shoulder. "We should take you someplace you can rest."

Al hummed in agreement – a good, long sleep sounded like a wonderful idea. His legs wobbled a little, but with his friends' help he managed to stand up. Darius grinned at the boy and said:

"Come on, Fullmetal. Let's find you a cozier bed than the military's front lawn."

Allowing himself to be fully supported by the chimeras and the Xingnese princess, Alphonse Elric was slowly escorted to the medical tent.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Oh, how do I love to confuse people! :3 It's like my favorite hobby.**

 **At first, this was supposed to be a one-shot. But over the months, the idea developed into an eight-chapter-long story. Go figure, huh? We'll see how that goes.**

 **Picture sketched and colored by: "SonicRocksMySocks" xD**

 **I was originally inspired by Aurelo's story-arc in "ABNE Infinite Possibilities" by BelloftheSea (still in progress -** **BelloftheSea inspires me so much!** **), however, if you keep reading, you'll discover that this story's premise is much different. I hope you're at the very least intrigued ;)**

 **Thank you for reading, please follow, favorite and review, but most importantly – read on and enjoy!**


	2. Empty

**Chapter 1: Empty**

* * *

It'd been exactly three days since Al woke up in the hospital.

The doctors said that his condition wasn't very promising at the moment. But luckily, it was still salvageable from permanent damage. The first day Alphonse hadn't been able to hold anything in his stomach, not even water, so he was given ice cubes to suck on instead. His weak stomach wasn't even the main source of problems though: Al's body was so horribly thin that his bones could be seen through the thick hospital pajamas, his muscles were so atrophied they appeared almost none-existent, and his hair looked like a mistreated pile of hay. However, none of those things bothered Alphonse much – not when compared to something else… or rather, the _lack_ of something.

It was new and strange, and he certainly didn't like it; he would have called it loneliness, if it wasn't for the fact that this couldn't be it, since he was hardly ever _alone_. He had plenty of visitors: Teacher, the chimeras, the Briggs soldiers (Major General Armstrong's visit was without a doubt the most traumatizing one), even Ling Yao and Lan Fan dropped by to say goodbye before they left with May back to Xing. The only one who didn't show up was his father; according to the Major Armstrong, Hohenheim had left abruptly before Alphonse woke up. Al would be lying if he said that he was surprised by this turn of events. Anyway, he had lots of people to keep him company, yet no matter how many of his friends came, Alphonse Elric couldn't get over the deep-rooted feeling that something absolutely essential was… missing.

Perhaps, Alphonse considered, his inability to specify his problem was the reason why it was so overwhelming. The teen was no stranger to human emotions, however this one seemed not only sourceless, but completely irrational. Al worked very hard to make himself forget, talking eagerly with every person who came to meet him, reading every hospital magazine he could get his hands on, even filling every word-cross – no matter how childish. The distraction technique worked quite well most of the time, but this 'gap' always stayed hidden in the back of his mind, only to return later and with bitter vengeance. In the evenings Al stared gloomily out of the window, wishing for something – anything – to take this feeling away… whatever _it_ was. All he knew was that it was making his spirit wither like a flower without water.

He secretly feared that if nothing changed soon, he would quickly reach his breaking point and snap. And he certainly didn't want to find out how badly that would end.

In spite of that, he acted like nothing was wrong, pretending to feel great. He just didn't want to bother anyone – everyone was celebrating their victory on the Promised Day and Al wasn't so selfish to spoil the mood. Alphonse himself had been declared a hero for his final strike that destroyed Father, but the teen responded to the praise with nothing more than a modest shrug. He'd been called the Hero of the People many times before, so it wasn't like this was something new to him. No one seemed to notice anything off about the Fullmetal Alchemist, although those who knew him were a bit thrown off by his condition. The only explanation Al was able to provide, was that the Gate had taken most of his stamina during the final exchange. Everyone accepted the story without reservations, even Teacher. But the truth was that Al was just as confused as they were.

After all, why would the Gate make him look emaciated in exchange for a missing arm and leg? How was that Equivalent Exchange, Alphonse wondered. What could possibly be the point of that?

Another thing bothered Al, almost as much as that gnawing feeling of missing something. After almost a full day of sleep, he had hoped that his mind would have returned to normal… and so it seemed, at first. However…

"How are you feeling, Fullmetal?" the nurse asked the moment he woke up.

The question had the same impact on his brain like a fist smashing a button. For a second, everything stopped.

He had been called 'Fullmetal' ever since he earned his State Alchemist title. Logically, he knew that. But for some reason, he felt a powerful urge to vehemently deny it. _Why_ was he inclined to say that he wasn't the Fullmetal Alchemist? He never had problems with it before… he'd been aware that he signed up for being a dog of the military the moment he took that watch in his hand. This was the path he had chosen. And the name itself… it wasn't bad at all. He liked it, he thought it sounded cool and intimidating.

He didn't care about his reputation, it was meaningless. He didn't care, he _shouldn't_ care. So why did it bother him so much right now? It didn't make any sense.

"I'm… feeling good! How is everybody else doing?"

The nurse failed to recognize the slight pause in his response for what it was.

It was only the beginning of strange inconsistencies in Al's mind. Soon afterwards, he started noticing other things, such as subtle impressions, inconsistent memories, feelings and thoughts clearly that contradicted each other... For example, on the third day, they finally served him food instead of keeping him on IV fluid. He would have given anything for a slice of apple pie to be his first meal after his restoration, but he wasn't complaining; the food looked surprisingly good, considering the number of patients – solider and civilian – currently occupying all the hospitals of Central. It quickly turned out that due to their… misunderstanding of his condition, Alphonse got special treatment. He knew he should have been thankful, but actually, it offended him quite a lot when his nurse 'subtly' started to encourage him:

"Please remember to finish _everything_ on your tray. Every last crumb. And no tricks, okay sweetie? We'll find out if you try to hide or throw your food away."

"Excuse me, I'm not _anorectic_!" Alphonse shrieked in outrage.

"Of course, sweetie, of course," the nurse said in a placating tone. "Also, no purging after you're done."

"And _I don't have bulimia!_ "

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

Eventually, his growing appetite vanquished the nurse's fears. It was hard to control himself, really, when he finally got to _taste food_ again. Even such a simple thing as eating felt like the absolute heaven for his senses – like he had been deprived of it for a long, long time… Every bite was putting him in the state of blissful delight. It was probably why he noticed the glass bottle, hiding behind other foods, only when he was about to finish his meal.

Milk.

Alphonse frowned, glaring at the innocent container as if it had committed a terrible crime.

 _Disgusting cow juice_ , he thought.

 _It's good for you_ , countered another part of his mind.

It didn't lessen the disgusted part's opinion. _So what? It tastes **awful**. No way in hell am I drinking this._

 _But your body needs nourishment_ , argued the reasonable part of his conscious. _And you have very fragile bones right now – you need calcium, right?_

 _There are other sources of calcium! I'm not going to drink something that's been **secreted from a cow** and that's final!_

 _But it'll help you grow taller!_

 _I AM NOT **SMALL**!_

Al grabbed his head in immense confusion.

It was like, like he had developed a multiple personality disorder… and, not. It didn't feel _exactly_ like he had another person in his head – rather, he was having a very hard time making decisions. Except it went to the extreme, resulting in two opposite parts of his mind to violently fight with each other. It caused him a serious headache – first out of many headaches that were to follow.

Every time the experience repeated itself, Al was getting less and less confident that this was a temporary anomaly. Truth to be told, it was just like with his loneliness – only getting worse. The more he was aware that his mind wasn't working as it should, the more Alphonse was getting anxious, making his thoughts increasingly disorganized.

On the fourth day, he dared to ask his nurse about it. But she practically dismissed him:

"Sweetie, it's perfectly normal for a teenage boy to have mood swings. Now that you're getting better, your hormones are kicking in, causing you to feel different. Don't worry, it will pass soon."

Al would have loved to believe her, but… he didn't. This wasn't his body acting against him. He of all people would recognize that.

* * *

On the fifth day, Al ran out of things to read. He had gone through every single newspaper and book available in the hospital. The nurse was stumped.

"There's no way you've read all of these already!" she exclaimed, looking at the pile on his nightstand.

Al merely smiled (this wasn't the first time people disbelieved his studying abilities) and explained: "I'm a fast reader."

The nurse gawked at him.

"Would it be possible to get some alchemy books from the Central's Library? I would send someone with my State Alchemist watch, but I think I lost it," the boy asked politely.

"I… I'll see what I can do..." she said slowly. "I could to ask your superior to send someone for you. Colonel Mustang has been borrowing a lot of books lately."

"How it the Colonel doing, anyway?"

"He's doing well, all things considered… I swear, I've never seen anybody so laid back in his condition. You would have thought the man's been blind for years, judging by his attitude."

Alphonse sighed.

"Let me guess, he tried to flirt with you."

The nurse laughed.

"You got that right. Although, I doubt he was serious about it. You've got to doubt a man complimenting your looks when he can't see any of them."

Alphonse giggled, imagining the infamous woman magnet Colonel Roy Mustang, failing spectacularly at hitting on a middle-aged nurse. It was even funnier picturing Lieutenant Hawkeye keeping him sternly in line. That image only caused Alphonse to laugh harder.

They brought him the books he asked for later this afternoon. Al was ecstatic. His brain had been yearning for a challenge, since most of the stuff at the hospital was ether a light read or simply _boring_. But he _loved_ alchemy, and he couldn't wait to get back to it. Immediately, he grabbed an advanced alchemy tome on crystals and dived right into it. It felt so _right_ , studying transmutations and reactions like nothing else mattered in the world… It was just like the old times.

However, as he kept reading… after half an hour his mood dropped significantly, making him pause. He tried not to show it, but he was deeply unsettled by this new development. Convincing himself that it must have been an unrelated mood swing, he resumed reading. But Alphonse wasn't a good liar, especially to himself. The strange sense of _something_ _missing_ crept back to him, slowly yet steadily becoming dominant in his mind. For the first time instead of distracting him, reading only made Alphonse more aware of it. Eventually, the feeling was so great that Al had no choice but to drop the book.

 _Wh_ _at's wrong with me?_ He thought desperately. _Why does this keep happening to me?!_

When the nurse returned, she found him hunched over the book, his expression looking painful.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" she asked with concern.

 _No,_ would be the truthful response. _I'm anything_ _ **but**_ _alright._ But Alphonse didn't voice it.

"I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile on his face. "Could you… Would you mind returning these books for me, please?"

The nurse blinked incredulously. "What, have finished them all, too?!"

"Uh..." Al decided he could use a ready excuse. "...yes. I, um, I've read most of these before. So…"

The nurse just shook her head and collected all the books for him. "Unbelievable," she muttered.

Alphonse smiled at her, this time more honestly. "Sorry about the trouble."

"Don't worry about it, sweetie. I know you must feel incredibly bored, sitting in the bed most of the day."

Oh, how he wished it was the _only_ thing felt.

"Would you like me to order more books for you?"

Al hesitated.

"I… don't know. Maybe later."

The nurse was surprised, but she didn't comment. "Okay then. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thank you."

As soon as she left, Al allowed his smile to drop, his small body sinking down into the mattress. He threw his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling, contemplating.

 _Just what is wrong with me…?_ He mulled the question over and over, helpless against his own mind.

* * *

Al hadn't had a single dream since his restoration. He didn't think about it, really – he couldn't remember the last time he dreamed anyway. It was about to change though, on the sixth night of his stay at the hospital. Unfortunately, the dreams that came were not the kind he would have wished for.

… _The circle glowing under his hands, the rush of excitement – **it's going to work, it's going to!** – the tension growing in the air…_

 _His stupid confidence, his **arrogance** , he should have known…!_

 _...The unexpected color change in the light of the transmutation, the instant anxiety – **something wrong, something doesn't feel right…!** – the giant eye opening in the circle…_

 _Why did he have to be **so stupid**...?!_

… _Sudden pain in his hand, the shock, the fear – **help, help, help!** – the hands sprouting from the reaction and grabbing him…_

 _He allowed this to happen, it was **all his fault** …!_

… _Pain, pain, pain **everywhere** , it's too much, somebody help him…_

 _Please, he was wrong, but **please somebody help him** …!_

… _Featureless white figure in front of the Gate, big, toothy grin, **the Gate** opening…_

 _' **Truth'** …? What's that supposed to mean…?_

… _Knowledge pouring into his brain, too much, he can't, **it's too much please make it stop!** …_

 _For an instant, it was all clear… The Truth… **of everything** …_

… _ **Mom!** She's right there, so close, he's reaching out for her, he's almost-!_

-BAM!

 _He was standing in front of the Gate._

 _What's happening? It was different… This wasn't the memory of the Human Transmutation five years ago, he was **feeling** different… He **could** feel it, but why was it so important…?_

" _What's going on?" he said, looking around in confusion._

 _Suddenly, Truth was standing in front of him. A malicious grin stretched on the Being's face._

 _"_ **I guess you're free to go…** **for** **now** **at least** **,** _" Truth said in a mocking voice. "_ **It's sad, really, you were so close this time!** _"_

" _What?" he barely had time to ask before the Gate opened behind him. He turned slowly, seeing the eye in the Gate opening and black hands reaching out for him._

 _"_ **But, a deal's a deal.** **I** **wonder how long** **you'll need to realize what** **'** **s been taken from you...** _"_

" _No, wait!" he protested, struggling against the hands with all his might, but in vain. "What deal? What did you do?!"_

 _"_ **Oh, believe me, I did nothing.** _"_

 _The grinning figure with a single flesh leg was getting farther away._

 _"Wait wait wait! What did you-?!"_

 _"_ **Until next time,** _ **Mister Alchemist!** "_

"WAAAIT!"

Alphonse awoke with a scream, panting heavily. His heart still racing. It took him a moment to realize where he was; that he wasn't in the Gate anymore, he was safe in his bed in the hospital.

The conclusion didn't help much though, not right after reviewing his worst memories. The boy wrapped the blanket tightly around himself and closed his eyes, struggling for composure. However it seemed like shivers had taken permanent control over his body. Instead of slowing down, his breath became faster, turning into shallow gasps. Suddenly he noticed something wet on his cheeks. When had he started crying? He shouldn't be crying… a sinner like him didn't deserve to.

But once the tears started, he couldn't stop them. The dam that had been holding his emotions finally cracked. So Al gave up. He cried his heart out.

He cried for the horror of his memory. He cried for the fear he had felt. He cried for pain he had gone through that awful night. He cried for of his confusion, for his contradicting memories. But most of all, he cried for _something he had lost_.

Because now he understood why he had been feeling this way. Why he had become such a wreck inside. He should have known that Truth would take a toll – Equivalent Exchange. You can never gain without giving something in return. Even though he was complete in body, this whole time a piece of him had been missing. A piece much more significant than an arm or a leg. And yet, Alphonse still didn't have a clue what it was. He could be only certain of one thing.

Never before had his soul felt as lonely, nor empty, as it felt that night.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Ah, so much angst! Poor little Alphonse… :'( I feel so guilty for putting him through this… Don't worry Al, your suffering is for a noble cause – my plot! xD Besides, this story's going to be only a eight chapters long! At least, I think so... *uncertain shrug***

 **What do you guys think – what's going on with Alphonse? What did Truth take from him? You got it all figured out? Let me know in the comments!**

 **Thank you for reading, please follow and favorite if you're enjoying this, and most importantly – read on and enjoy! :)**


	3. Missing

**Chapter 2: Missing**

* * *

The next morning, Alphonse had made a decision.

As a scientist, it was his job to understand the world around him, and himself. To deal the unknown, he would always follow the three steps of transmutation: understanding, deconstructions and reconstruction. He determined that in this case, it would be no different. He formulated a plan.

First, he would try to identify his problem. Then, in order to simplify it, he would take it apart to the basic variables. And at last, he would find a solution. So, Al began with researching his 'symptoms', to identify what exactly was wrong with him.

He started with asking for literature related to memory anomalies and disorders. The kind nurse was confused with his sudden interest in psychology and neurology, but she gladly complied to his wishes, successfully providing him a dozen thick books on the subject within a single day. Al dived into his research.

The 'Dementia' syndrome sounded plausible at first – but the more Al read about it, the less fitting it became. For example, Al didn't observe having any difficulties with completing ordinary tasks. Also, in most cases, Dementia was said to be caused by old age.

 _Unless I inherited it after my father, then I don't think so_ , he thought with dry humor.

He crossed that one out and went ahead. Next disorder, named 'Alzheimer' after the doctor who discovered it, Al ruled out immediately. The following ones were no different. 'Epilepsy', for instance, would usually cause a person to experience repetitive seizures, which was something he hadn't had once in his life. The list went on but each new disorder was more and more farfetched.

Eventually Al gave up on disorders entirely and focused on phenomenons instead (which, honestly, was a relief. Just because he was researching his problem, it didn't mean the boy didn't feel terrified at the thought of being mentally ill). 'Jamais vu', a fascinating occurrence similar to Cretan-discovered 'Déjà vu' phenomenon, was only a partially similar to his own experience, while others didn't fit in the slightest.

In the end, the books couldn't provide Alphonse any satisfying answer. With no decisive conclusion made (beside the fact that, _thank Truth_ , he wasn't insane), he turned to another symptom of his mysterious problem; the unnatural, yet nurse-proclaimed "perfectly normal for a teenager", mood swings.

At first, Alphonse dismissed the possibility of having something so mundane as a hormonal disorder. His body has endured all kinds of stress over the years of being a State Alchemist, why it would cause him such emotional difficulties all of a sudden? It didn't make sense. But… just to make sure, he decided to give it a shot.

It was easier than he thought it would. All he had to do was to request his medical records, all perfectly in reach in the hospital. The doctors, concerned about his body's condition, had already ran a number of blood tests, giving Al a chance to double-check everything, in case they had overlooked something. Alphonse knew the average statistics for an adult human body like he knew his own name – after all, he spent years of his childhood learning about anatomy… in order to perform that cursed Human Transmutation.

For some reason though, those childhood memories were the ones that were almost completely unavailable to him at the moment. He made a note to look more into it later.

However, the tests stated that he was perfectly healthy, disregarding how malnourished he had been when he was first taken into the hospital. Al did some calculations of his own and determined that with the current rehabilitation schedule, his body received a sufficient dose of endorphins and other mood regulators along with daily exercises – in other words, his mental state couldn't be blamed on hormones.

Satisfied that at least he'd been right all along, Al moved onto the trickiest part of his analysis; spiritual health.

He left that area for the last on purpose. From the beginning, he'd suspected that his problem wasn't exactly medical. But secretly, he half-hoped for something to be wrong with his body; that would make everything so much easier. He could adjust in time, or be cured with medicine. Unfortunately, if Truth had taken something physical from him, Alphonse would have known the moment he left the portal. It's, well, the kind of thing that's difficult not to notice.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? He ate it for breakfast. Missing a limb and bleeding to death? He would deal with it. Going through automail surgery? That seemed simple, compared to this one. Body and mind could heal, but how on Earth Alphonse would patch up his own **soul**?

It sounded ridiculous, true, but it was the only thing that would explain everything. The memory problems, the emptiness he felt, the words he heard at the Gate…

" _ **A d**_ _ **eal's a deal.**_ _ **I**_ _ **wonder how long will it**_ _ **take**_ _ **you to realize what**_ _ **'**_ _ **s been taken from you...**_ "

No matter how hard he tried, Alphonse just couldn't recall what happened at the Gate, nor the deal that Truth spoke of. Was the loss of that particular memory a part of their agreement? Did that mean Truth could erase memories, or possibly alter them? Most importantly, _why_?

 _Why_ did he agree to this? Why would he? How _could_ he? How could _anyone_ be so stupid to trade **soul** for **body**? Even taking all of his past reckless actions into account, Alphonse just couldn't believe it. He would _never_ agree to something like that. When he found out how the Philosopher Stone was made, he swore not to use it to restore himself. Yes, using somebody else's soul and his own were two different things, but still! Even staying in the Gate for the rest of his life would have been better than this: _losing a piece of his soul_.

Because even without fully understanding what part of him was missing, it hurt. This gaping hole inside of him, this inescapable feeling of something precious gone forever, this emptiness; _it hurt_ _like hell_. It was torture. He couldn't stand it. It's been only a week and he was already feeling like it would drive him mad.

Alphonse dropped his notebook and leaned back, closing his eyes.

What he was going to do? If his conclusions were correct, and it was really a bit of his soul that Al was missing, how would he fix it? Or if it was impossible to restore it, could he live without it?

The answer to the latter that was simple: he couldn't.

A terrifying sense of foreboding overcame him.

 _What am I going to do?_

Alphonse opened his eyes and looked down at the skinny hands resting on his lap. The bony fingers slowly curled into fists.

No, this was not over. He wasn't going to give up just like that. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist for crying out loud, he would get through this! He fought the Homunculi, he punched Father in the face when he possessed the power of "God", he tricked Pride and survived – he could do this! He knew he would, he would always find a way.

Al blinked in surprise at the strange turn his thoughts had taken. He had never thought of himself being so sanguine. And yet, right now, he had absolute confidence that he could do this.

He smiled and straightened his back, sitting up. For the first time since the Promised Day, his confused mind provided him strength instead of grief. It was refreshing.

 _I think I know what to do…_

* * *

"Oh, come on, I don't need this!"

"I'm sorry, sweetie-"

"Could you _please_ stop calling me that? I told you, it's _Alphonse_. Or just Al. You're making me sound like a child."

"Very well, sweetie, but I must insist…"

"And, you're making me look like a _cripple_."

"You shouldn't exert yourself so much. Your rehabilitation-"

"-is already ahead of schedule. I've dealt with worse than this, I'm _fine_. Really!"

"At least take it, just in case you need it."

"No."

Sigh. "Sweetie…"

" _Alphonse_."

"…Alphonse. It's either this or the wheelchair. Which one do you prefer?"

"…Ugh! **F** **ine**."

Al finally gave up and took the cane from the overly-concerned nurse. He was so tempted to list all the times he'd been in far worse condition and he could still walk, not to mention fight, but decided against it. It wasn't necessary to traumatize his poor nurse. She was just worried about him, that's all.

Still, it didn't change the fact that he was about to humiliate himself in front of his co-workers. Which he was **not** happy about.

Slowly but steadily, he walked into Colonel Mustang's and Lieutenant Hawkeye's room. He was hardly surprised to find them surrounded by books, Lieutenant Breda and Sergeant Fuery helping the Colonel to study.

"...the farming method used in the Ishvalan region?" Heymans Breda asked, holding paper and pen in his hand.

"Dual cropping, wheat and cotton."

"Finally, you got that one correct." He made a check. "What is the name of-"

"Alphonse!" Riza Hawkeye spotted him at the door and smiled. "What a pleasant surprise."

Everyone immediately turned to the doorway, where Alphonse stood confidently with a cane in his hand. He didn't want to admit it, but the nurse might had had a point about exerting himself – he was already feeling dead tired. Of course, he would never let them know that.

"Hello, Lieutenant," he smiled back.

"Alphonse! You came!" Cain Fuery exclaimed happily and stood up. He'd always admired the young State Alchemist.

"Nice to see you you too, Sergeant."

"Fullmetal," the Colonel acknowledged with a smirk. "A _little_ late to visit, aren't you? It's been a whole week." He made an exaggerated sigh. "Then again, I suppose understandable. Surely it takes someone of _your_ stature a small bit longer to get anywhere _._ "

Al's smile faded. His mind instantly bombarded him with contradicting thoughts: the ones that cursed and threatened to beat up the Flame Alchemist to a bloody pulp, and the other which silently agreed with the implication that he was rather small for his age. There was also this whole issue with being called 'Fullmetal'. It took Al a serious effort not to grab his poor, sipping head and groan loudly in confusion.

The Colonel might have been blind, however the rest of the team didn't miss the pained expression on Alphonse's face.

"Alphonse? Are you alright?" asked Hawkeye with concern.

Mustang frowned at the tone in Lieutenant's voice, picking up that something wasn't right. "Fullmetal? What's wrong?"

Al took a deep breath.

"Sorry about not coming earlier, Colonel. I was busy." He knew he'd alarmed everyone already not only by apologizing, but also letting the comment about his height slide. Under normal circumstances, he would never do that. But he felt inclined to be polite and respectful to the Colonel for whatever reason… _Something's_ _ **really**_ _wrong with me, isn't it._ "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute… in private."

Breda and Fuery exchanged surprised glances. Mustang seemed surprised too.

"What about?"

"I need to talk to you about the Gate."

Eery silence fell upon everyone in the room. Hawkeye, Breda and Fuery all tensed, anxiously waiting for their commanding officer to respond. Mustang's sightless eyes widened slightly. Then, the Colonel closed them and nodded slightly.

"Very well. Can you all please leave us for a moment? Breda, can you assist the Lieutenant?"

"Of course, sir."

Breda helped Hawkeye to stand up from her bed and escorted her out, followed by Fuery. The black-haired Sergeant shot one last concerned look behind and closed the door. Al stood awkwardly for a moment, not certain how to start.

"Feel free to come closer. I'd like to have an idea where you are, if you don't mind."

Alphonse walked up, making his steps loud. He sat on the edge of the Colonel's bed, allowing the man to realize his position. Then the boy sighed on purpose, letting the other know how much distance was between the two of them. A fleeting smile that crossed the older man's face told Al that Mustang was well aware of his consideration and appreciated it.

"How are you doing, Colonel? How are your eyes?"

The solider was rather blunt in his response – no place for sugarcoating in the military.

"As you would have expected; blind like a bat." Mustang pressed fingers to the closed eyelids. "But not for much longer, hopefully."

Al blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Doctor Marcoh visited yesterday. He offered to heal me with a Philosopher Stone."

Alphonse gaped. "And you accepted?"

"Not yet. I demanded he healed Havoc, first. If there's enough power in the stone left, then he'll use it to restore my eyesight."

The boy closed his mouth and frowned. He didn't know what to say.

"Aren't you going to criticize my decision, Fullmetal?" The Colonel sounded like he'd fully expected it.

"No." Al shook his head, forgetting that Mustang couldn't see it anyway. "It wasn't fair that your eyesight was taken. For me, it was different. I lost my limbs because of my own foolish decision. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't deserve to be punished."

Mustang's lips moved up a little, turning into a small smile.

"How very forgiving of you. You really believe I didn't deserve to be punished?"

The Colonel turned his head as if he was trying to look at him. He seemed curious.

"You know what I did, in Ishval. And this Stone was made by sacrificing even more Ishvalans. Marcoh told me himself. So, you really think it was the right decision to take his offer?"

"You were following orders. And… besides, I know you're going to do everything in your power to help Ishval." Al swallowed. "Even if it means sacrificing yourself. If the souls in that Stone were given a choice, I'm sure they would prefer to be used by someone who'll help country's than suffer for eternity. So if anyone should use it, it's you."

Mustang laughed softly.

"You are something else."

Al smiled a little. Then he remembered why he came and his already weak grin faltered. "Colonel, I need ask you something."

That instantly got the man's attention. There was no hesitance in Mustang's voice when he prompted: "Go ahead."

"Do you remember what happened to you at the Gate? When you lost your eyesight?"

A dark look took over Mustang's features. "It's rather impossible to forget."

"Did you see Truth? The… being at the Gate?"

The solider couldn't suppress the shudder as he recalled the memory. "...yes."

"What did it say?" Al asked quietly.

"When I came to and saw my surroundings, I asked _it_ , where the hell I was. I should have known immediately, but with those the circumstances… I was confused and hurt and I just couldn't think straight." Mustang put his bandaged left hand to his forehead, while the right hand, also covered in bandages, clenched tightly around the sheet. Al could only imagine how it must have been for the Colonel, so severely injured and standing before Truth. " _It_ said to me: 'You're at the Gate of Truth'. Then it all came back to me and I realized what was going on. As you can imagine, I said I had absolutely no intention of opening the Gate. Even if your story wasn't enough to convince me, that _thing_ was freakish like hell. So I demanded to be let out." He paused before continuing with a strained voice. " _It_ didn't give me a choice. I remember seeing _it_ grin before the Gate opened and then, I was dragged right into it."

The Colonel was trembling. It was so subtle Al probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been paying such close attention, but he _was_ trembling – and the boy could barely believe it. The only other time he'd seen the Flame Alchemist lose composure like this was in Father's lair, after he came out of the Gate, but it was no wonder he'd been shaken up right after the experience. Here and know, and with only Alphonse as a witness, it was very unexpected. Suddenly, Alphonse realized it must have been the first time Mustang spoke about this with someone who would understand. The Colonel certainly told his Lieutenant, possibly some of his men, but they couldn't truly relate. None of them were alchemists, and none of them had actually _seen_ the Gate. They could never even being to comprehend the sheer terror of that memory.

Al carefully put his hand on Mustang's shoulder. The man tensed up instantly, but then, he slowly started relaxing. After a short moment, Mustang proudly pulled the offered hand away.

"I'm fine," he assured, but Alphonse didn't believe it for a second. Al rolled his eyes, glad the Colonel couldn't see it.

"Sure, continue."

"In the Gate, I saw all sorts of things. My past, present, alchemic equations… there was so much and I felt like it was going to kill me. I thought for sure I was going to die." Al could certainly relate. At one point, he also believed that the Gate would completely take him apart. "Suddenly, it was over. I was back in front of the Gate, intact, if you don't count my injuries. And then, it became dark. I haven't seen the light ever since."

A small gasp escaped from Al's throat. It must have been horrible, having the last memory of light being that white void.

"It sure haunts you in your dreams, doesn't it."

"Every night," Mustang admitted. His fists clenched. "I will probably have to see it again when Marcoh heals me, won't I."

Alphonse had no response to that. His silence was clear enough for an answer.

"But if that's what it takes to help this country, so be it."

The boy couldn't help but feel admiration for the Flame Alchemist. Even after facing the Gate, even after paying the price, he was still determined to get through all of this – not for himself, but for the sake of others.

 _He_ _really is_ _a remarkable man,_ _isn't he_ _…_ the meeker part of his mind mused.

 _N_ _ot that_ _I'll_ _ **ever**_ _say_ _it,_ the more irritable part responded. _And besides, he's still a cheeky Bastard_ , it quickly added, but without much conviction.

Realizing having this sort of discussion with himself wasn't exactly normal, Al quickly refocused on the topic. "So, Truth didn't say anything else to you?"

He had to make sure. It was the whole reason why he needed to talk with the Colonel in the first place.

"Not that I can remember." Mustang paused. "Why? What's troubling you?"

Al shifted uncomfortably. "You know how I restored my limbs, right?"

"So I heard." The Colonel sounded proud, but his smile had a trace of bitterness. "I'm sorry I couldn't witness it with my own eyes."

"It's fine, Colonel. It wasn't… well, you see, the thing is… I can't remember _how_ I did it."

Mustang blinked in confusion. "What? What do you mean, you can't remember?"

"I just can't. For some reason… my memory of that event is simply nonexistent. I only remember a bit when I was already leaving the Gate. And the things Truth told me were… unsettling, to say the least."

He hesitated, still uncertain if he should tell everything or not. But Mustang wouldn't have it.

"What did it say, Fullmetal?" he asked in his commanding voice, reserved for subordinates who're withholding information.

"It said… something about a deal, and how long it would take me to realize what's been taken from me…" His voice got so quiet it was almost a whisper. "Colonel, I haven't been completely honest with everyone. I was telling you guys I was alright, but I don't think I am."

Much to Al's surprise, the expression and tone Mustang used next were not the ones of a commanding officer, but rather of a concerned friend. "Tell me."

And Alphonse told him. Everything. Since the moment he woke up: about the overwhelming confusion, the ever-present uncertainty, the stabbing pain. He described the crushing sense of loneliness that's been constantly on his mind, the haziness of his memories, his inability to recall most of his childhood experiences, his conflict over simple decisions like drinking milk or even how to react to being called short. In spite of how ridiculous it all sounded, Mustang didn't interrupt once; he didn't laugh or speak, just kept listening. Lastly, Al told the Colonel about his research and the conclusions he came to.

"If Truth took a part of my body or something, then I would have known. But how would you know if your _soul_ has been tampered with or not? Nobody's ever tried. We know that body and soul can exist separately, like with Barry the Chopper. But what happens if just a section of a soul is taken out? What would happen then? What if that's what happened to _me_?"

Mustang waited for a couple of seconds, then asked: "Is that really what you believe?"

"I don't know _what_ to believe anymore, Colonel. The only thing I'm sure of is that there's something really wrong with me, and I can't take it anymore."

"Or, you could be suffering from survivor's guilt, or temporary depression. Have you considered that?"

Al shot Mustang an offended look, then remembered himself and said: "Of _course_ I have, that's the first thing that came to my mind. Weren't you listening? Why else would I research mental illnesses first? This could have been brain damage or concussion for anything I know. I checked the recent hospital records and everything – the papers have _nothing_ to explain what's been going on."

"You really thought about everything." Mustang smiled despite the severity of the situation.

"I know it sounds insane. But there is nothing wrong with me, not physically, and not mentally. A human being is made out of three things: body, mind, and soul. If we dismiss the first two, it has to be related to the soul."

The Colonel nodded. "There's got to be a way for you to get what you're missing, though."

Finally. Instead of arguing further or declaring him crazy, Mustang _believed_ him. Al was so relieved he could whoop with joy. "But how do I do that, Colonel?"

"You're asking _me_?" There was unmistakable smugness in Mustang's tone, but Al ignored it for the time being.

"You and Teacher are the only people I know of who've seen the Gate," he explained. "If you can't help me, I doubt anyone can."

"What about Hohenheim?"

Al froze for a second, then sighed. "He's gone."

No more explanation was needed. Just because they saved Amestris with Hohenheim's help, didn't mean the man would change and stop disappearing on everyone without telling where he was going. Judging by his expression, Mustang understood perfectly and changed the topic.

"I might know a way, but I don't think you'll like it, Fullmetal."

That made the boy perk up immediately. "What? What is it?"

"When Havoc finally gets here, Doctor Marcoh could-"

Marcoh's name was enough for Al to get the idea. He interrupted harshly: "No."

"Fullmetal…"

"I told you already, Colonel, I'm not going to use the Philosopher Stone. I won't sacrifice anyone else's soul to fix my own mistake!"

"And I respect that," Mustang relented. "I just don't want to see you suffer like this. This Stone would be spent on a much better cause if it was used for your sake than mine."

Al was speechless for a moment. Mustang couldn't mean that, could he?

"D-don't be ridiculous, Colonel. Of course you need the Stone. I don't need it nearly as much as you do."

"I beg to differ. We're talking about your _soul_ here."

"I'll find another way. I can live like this until I come up with a solution."

"Can you? You said the exact opposite a moment ago."

Once again, Al had no idea what to say. He looked away, his eyes turning to the window, where he met an alien pair of golden eyes peering at him.

Alphonse froze in surprise, gawking at the face in the window with disbelief, and so did the owner of the golden eyes. For a second neither of them moved nor breathed, only stared at each other in total shock. Then suddenly, the spell was broke when the face quickly disappeared from sight.

"Hey!" Al yelled loudly, causing Mustang to jump in surprise. He ran up to the window. "Hey, stop! Someone stop him!"

"What's going on?"

"Someone's been spying through the window!"

Confusion filled the Colonel's expression. "Aren't we on the third floor?"

Al blinked, realizing that Mustang was right. He opened the window and looked outside. Just as he did, a figure landed on the ground gracefully and started running away. The stranger appeared to be a blond teenager, dressed in a red coat with a familiar symbol on. Al had to admit the spy was pretty fast.

He wasted no time; turning on his heel, he swiftly left the room. The soldiers who'd been sitting in the hallway, chatting, snapped to attention immediately.

"Lieutenant!" he addressed Hawkeye, seeing she was the highest ranking solider around. "Someone's been spying on my conversation with Mustang! He's running away!" Hawkeye narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"Who? What did they look like?"

"A teen, around my age. Long blond hair in a ponytail, red coat with a Flamel Cross on it… I think he was wearing black underneath. I didn't get a good look at him before he was gone."

"I'm going to inform the personnel right away, sir!" said Breda, leaving quickly. Meanwhile, Hawkeye's expression changed. She raised her eyebrow.

"Someone copying you?"

Al nodded sharply. Of course, he noticed that detail as well. There weren't many people around who wore coats like that – Al's was one of a kind. Also, having long blond hair was unusual for most men. The combination of the two could only mean that someone was deliberately copying his style. It might have been an attempt to dispel suspicion with a disguise, or the person could have been intending to steal the identity of the Fullmetal Alchemist. Al didn't like either of those possibilities.

"Are you sure he was a spy? If it's only a kid, maybe he's just an admirer," Hawkeye offered carefully.

"Fans don't usually climb _three stores high_ to spy on hospitalized military officers and their meetings," Al responded. "And you didn't see him, Lieutenant, he was _fast_. He didn't stop when I called out to him. He didn't even turn around."

Alphonse leaned on the wall, completely drained out of energy. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I shouldn't have asked you and the others to leave. I don't know how much he heard, he could have been there from the beginning and I didn't notice…!"

"No, it's not your fault," she said shook her head. "We should have been more careful with security. Someone should have been standing on guard inside during your discussion with the Colonel, even if it was meant to be confidential."

Al sighed heavily. This was bad. Whoever the teen was, there was a strong chance he'd been there long enough to overhear something he wasn't supposed to know – a lot of things no one should know about. Al and the Colonel talked not only about Truth and the Gate, but also Al's limbs and the Philosopher Stone. This was _very_ bad.

But Alphonse totally omitted the thing that struck him most about the spy. And he wasn't going to mention it to anyone, not even the Colonel. Not until he figured out what it meant.

Even though the stranger's eyes were to totally alien to him, even though he'd only seen them for a second… Al had no doubt that there was familiarity in them.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **There he is. I don't think I need to spell out for you who this "spy" was, that's rather obvious.** **But for those who don't know, here's a clue: (whisper) _it_ _'s_ _n_ _o_ _t Hohenheim!_ ;D**

 **By the way, I switched the titles of Chapters 1 and 2: Chp. 1 is "Empty" and Chp. 2 is "Missing" now. Sorry for confusion, but I made a mistake and needed to fix it.**

 **So, how do you guys feel about Al's theory about his soul? Is he right? Is he wrong? Is he somewhere in between? And why do you think the "spy" ran away? Please let me know in your reviews!**

 **Thank you for reading, please follow and favorite, but most importantly – read on and enjoy! :)**


	4. Connected

**Chapter 3: Connected**

* * *

Lieutenant Breda didn't return until half an hour later. When the male solider finally showed up in the hallway, Al and Hawkeye perked up from their gloomy states.

"Took you long enough," Hawkeye remarked.

"I apologize, Lieutenant," Breda responded without slowing up his pace. He looked a little out of breath. "We've been looking for the front desk Administrator, but we managed to find him only about ten minutes ago."

"The Administrator? Where has he been?"

Breda stopped and glanced at them both before responding with a perfectly blank tone.

"…Tied up in the janitor's closet."

Alphonse and Hawkeye bore identical, stunned expressions. They spoke hurriedly and at the same time:

"What?! How-?"

"-Who? What happened?"

"Our mystery spy, or," Breda turned to Al with a significant look "'Wannabe Fullmetal Alchemist,' to be more accurate."

Al tensed upon hearing this. For some reason he hadn't expected this at all. "You sure?"

"Unless there's a bunch of blond kids with red coats running around that I don't know about; yes."

Hawkeye was serious and business now. "Did the Administrator notice anything of importance about his assailant?"

"Not much, aside from what Al's already told us: young, long-haired, wearing dark leather jacket and pants, combat boots… and of course, the red coat." Al had been unconsciously holding his breath while Breda described the 'Wannabe Fullmetal'. The Administrator hadn't seen the eyes, apparently – those peculiar, bright golden eyes, so strange yet so familiar… Al hesitated if he should mention them, but before he could make up his mind, Breda continued: "The kid came in earlier saying that he wanted to see Alphonse Elric."

Hawkeye skeptically raised here eyebrow. "He just waltzed in and asked for an appointment?"

"Yeah, but that's not the strange part. When the Administrator asked his name, he refused to give one. Our Wannabe Fullmetal didn't even try to fake an ID. He straight up said to the guy – and I quote – 'None of your damn business.'"

"…Sounds like someone else we know," she said amused, glancing at Alphonse who blushed in embarrassment.

"He was in character alright. The Administrator denied him entrance, of course, since the kid didn't sign in. But Wannabe Fullmetal kept insisting, claiming he was a close friend."

Hawkeye frowned. "Are you sure we don't know who he is? Alphonse, perhaps you've seen him before?"

"No," Al answered firmly. "I've never seen him in my life. Believe me, if I had, I would have known." _I would have remembered those eyes…_

"Even if he were a friend, it wouldn't explain what he did next," Breda said, visibly torn between being impressed and suspicious. "The Administrator accidentally happened to mention that no one could visit Fullmetal anyway, because he was currently meeting his commanding officer. The kid barged in behind the guy's desk and started searching through the hospital records to find in which room."

"So he knows about Alphonse's commanding officer… " Hawkeye observed.

"That's actually public knowledge. He could have read it in a magazine or something. What he pulled off next though is what really makes the icing on the cake."

"You mean, tying up the Administrator?" Al asked rhetorically, but Breda shook his head.

"Not just that. A teenager being able to overpower an adult isn't so uncommon. But check this out." He handed Alphonse three pieces of fabric.

Al squinted while scrutinizing the white cloth in his hands. It was rough, torn in the place where Lieutenant Breda must have cut through to set the Administrator free. A person who hadn't been around alchemy wouldn't have noticed, but Al had been studying the science for years and it was clear to him; these improvised restrains had been transmuted. He almost let go of them in shock upon the realization.

"No way… he knows _alchemy_?"

"A teen who can use alchemy in hand-to-hand combat," Hawkeye mused thoughtfully. "'Wannabe Fullmetal' indeed."

Breda smirked. "Wait 'till the Colonel hears about this. I bet half of my salary he'll try to recruit the kid."

"As a State Alchemist?" Al blinked. "You think? We don't even know his name."

The solider shrugged. "So what? According to the Administrator he incapacitated him in seconds before the guy could call for help, _and_ he used alchemy to restrain him. You've got to admit that's not an easy feat, especially for a kid."

Al felt quite conflicted. The copy-cat alchemist had been spying on him and Mustang, which screamed 'not to be trusted.' On the other hand, he didn't really do anything bad – except tying up the poor Administrator, but even then, he didn't cause the man any harm. It was the last resort. The teenager must have believed his goal to be important enough to break the rules… Now, the question would be just _what_ it was.

"But why?" he asked out loud. "I mean, why did he do this? He said he wanted to see me. Why would he want to see me so badly though? He ran away the moment I noticed his face in the window."

Breda didn't seem very eager to answer the question. "We can't be sure… It could be plenty of reasons. He could be your own personal stalker, a member of anti-military organization, the Fuhrer's supporter… the Homunculi's previous pawn. Who knows? There's too little information to decide right now."

Al wanted to argue that it was doubtful a kid would work with the Homunculi, but then he remembered that Pride possessed the disguise of a human child himself. They really couldn't discredit the possibility, not even after the Promised Day was over, with all the Homunculi being dead and gone-

 _Wait a second._ _ **Are**_ _they? What happened to Pride anyway? Another thing I can't remember… That's so confusing… Is Selim Bradley still_ _ **alive**_ _? Was he-_

"We need to inform the Colonel about this," Hawkeye interrupted Al's train of thought. They all went back inside, the place where the whole commotion started. Sergeant Fuery was standing on guard next to the window and Mustang was sitting straight, seemingly impatient for the news.

"Did you get him?" he asked as soon as he heard them enter.

"No, sir," said Breda, who then told the overall explanation of what happened to the hospital's Administrator. The Flame Alchemist intently listened to the whole report. After Breda was done, the Colonel hummed thoughtfully.

"Interesting… very interesting." He rubbed his chin. "'Wannabe Fullmetal,' you say?"

"That's what we're going with for now, since we don't know his real name."

"Shame. He probably would have made a great State Alchemist, if his skill really is as impressive as you describe it."

Al snorted quietly as Breda wiggled his eyebrows at him and Hawkeye. The female Lieutenant rolled her eyes.

"I don't know, Colonel…" Alphonse spoke up, causing everyone in the room to turn in his direction. "He doesn't seem much trustworthy. He's been spying on us, not to mention technically assaulted a hospital worker beforehand."

"What, Fullmetal, you doubt he'd be good enough? Or, are you worried he might take over your 'youngest State Alchemist ever' spot? " Mustang put his signature smirk on, which would have worked much better if he could look him in the eye while he was doing it. Al almost felt pity for the man ( _almost_ being the key word here), seeing as their usual banter just couldn't be the same with the Colonel's disability. Still, the comment ticked him off. Kind of a lot.

" _Wh- what?!_ " He sputtered. "What are you-?! Of course not!"

"Is that insincerity I hear?" The Colonel's smirk widened. "Afraid someone would steal your thunder? Why, I had no idea you loved the attention so much."

" **No!** He wouldn't- I mean- Not that I even- That's not- _**Urgh!**_ " He waved his hands in frustration. "This isn't the point!"

"But you've got to admit, the kid can handle himself," Breda pointed out. "Considering that this is a military secured area, it's amazing he managed to escape without a trace."

"Well, he can run fast! So what?"

"And didn't he climb to take a peek through a third-floor window?" Hawkeye remembered.

"Even someone the _Colonel's_ age could manage that!" Al motioned wildly in Mustang's direction, but then suddenly felt abashed. "Uh, I mean…"

Mustang's brow ticked, the older alchemist not flattered in the slightest at the insinuation that a person his age shouldn't be much dexterous. Which had been totally not intended on Al's. Not at all.

 _Jeez, why am I acting so mean?_ Al wondered.

 _Don't feel bad, he deserved it. His overblown ego is bigger than Amestris and surrounding countries combined._

Alphonse couldn't decide if he should agree with his mean side or not.

"What I'm interested in is where this… Fullmetal enthusiast learned how to successfully transmute cotton," the Colonel continued, deciding to ignore Al's comment. "Cotton's chemical makeup is rather simple, but it's still a complex material. It takes skill to conduct a cotton transmutation without making the whole thing fall apart. It's not the beginners' level."

Mentioning cotton transmutation instantly raised a red flag in Al's mind. It made him realize that they'd overlooked something very important.

"Lieutenant Breda?" he asked in a changed voice. "Did the Administrator describe the transmutation circle which the kid used by any chance?"

Breda paused for a short moment. "…No, he didn't mention it, now that I think about it. It's possible Wannabe Fullmetal had gloves, but… He didn't say anything about a circle."

Ominous silence fell upon everyone in the room.

"You're not implying what I think you are, right?" the Colonel asked in a dark undertone.

"I really hope not that's not the case." Al made sure his voice was completely serious. "Then again, we can't overlook the possibility."

Mustang pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "Fullmetal… What are the _chances_? After Father collecting Human Sacrifices… Even going so far as to forcefully make one…" Namely, himself. Al could only imagine what the Colonel was feeling right now. "It just…"

"…seems impossible, I know. But, you know what Greed used to say… Nothing is impossible."

Mustang stayed silent for a moment longer, his head bowed, before straightening up and barking:

"Sergeant Fuery!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Alert the Central Command. I want this kid found, and I want him found _now_. Are we clear?"

Fuery saluted. "Yes, Colonel, sir!"

"One more thing. Don't let them know about his alchemic abilities or fixation on Fullmetal, except for his clothing choice. Just report the assault on the hospital's Administrator."

Fuery looked confused for a moment, then his features turned into obedience and understanding. "Right away, sir!"

Al folded his arms as the Sergeant left the room. "What are you planning, Colonel?"

The man smiled. "Oh, nothing. I just don't want to let any higher-ups to get their hands on him before I do. Anybody in Central will do absolutely anything to stand out, now that the Fuhrer's spot is empty."

"Are you seriously going to use some random kid off the street to promote yourself to become Fuhrer?" The blonde shook his head. "Why am I not surprised."

"Don't be ridiculous, Fullmetal." Mustang caught him off guard. "I can't become Fuhrer right now. The public needs someone they can trust, and there's plenty of controversy on me, especially after recent Coup d'état. General Grumman will most probably take the position, seeing that he's the most suitable person for the job at the moment. By 'higher-ups', I meant other Generals who are certainly hoping to take advantage of the political chaos."

"Oh." Al felt a bit silly for not taking that into account.

"…Still, an additional reason for a promotion or two wouldn't hurt."

 _Of course._ The boy actually smiled.

"But Colonel… Do you two really believe that this boy has committed the taboo?" Hawkeye spoke, looking at Mustang with a serious face.

The Colonel shrugged nonchalantly. "Like Fullmetal said. Nothing is impossible. I'm not going to assume anything before they bring him in."

That was fine with Alphonse. He also didn't want to make any false accusations, however he _was_ undeniably curious. Well, it was more of morbid curiosity. Although it didn't change the fact that he just wanted to know _who_ this kid was, _why_ he appeared to be so fixated on him, and _where_ Al had seen his eyes before.

He wanted – no, he _needed_ to know.

"Fullmetal."

Mustang's voice snapped Al out of his reverie. "Yes?"

"Are you ready to be checked out of the hospital?"

The sudden change of topic couldn't be accidental. Al narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I'm not sure. I mean, the doctors had recommended at least one more week of rehabilitation to make sure my condition is stable, but-"

"Great, this means you're ready to leave," Mustang interrupted. "Tomorrow, you're going back to Resembool."

Al gaped at him momentarily. "Uh, what? Why?"

"Consider it a medical leave. I think you should spend the rest of your recovery at your hometown." The Colonel's tone hinted that it was about more than that. "Relax with your friends, rest… jog some old childhood memories."

Ah, that's what this was all about. The Colonel was respecting his privacy, telling Al about a way to start his search for a way to fix himself, in spite of Hawkeye and Breda's presence. Al smiled. _What a sneaky man._

"Sure… Thanks, Colonel."

"But, you're going to have an escort."

"Wait, what?!"

 _No way_ , Al thought with frustration _. Escorts, again?! He knows I hate them!_

"But, Colonel, I don't think it's necessary…!"

"On the contrary. It's not just about your safety, Fullmetal. I have a feeling we haven't gotten rid of your stalker yet – he'll probably follow you to Resembool. So, you're going to need someone capable with you in order to catch him."

Al opened his mouth to protest, but to his dismay, he realized that Mustang was right. Al was doing better now, but he still wasn't fit to fight or chase anyone. If the spy showed up again, Alphonse would have no chance of stopping him from running away. That kid was simply too fast. After a moment, Alphonse sighed in defeat.

"Alright, fine. You win. But who's going to-"

Suddenly, the door was slammed open and an enormous figure barged in.

" **THERE YOU ARE, ALPHONSE ELRIC!** " Major Alex Luis Armstrong bellowed.

" _Ahhh!_ " Al yelped and jumped backwards, tripping over and ending up on the floor as the result.

"I'VE HEARD YOU WERE WELL ENOUGH TO VISIT YOUR COMMADING OFFICER ALREADY! I'M MOST DELIGHTED TO SEE YOUR SWIFT RECOVERY, ALPHONSE ELRIC!" Major Armstrong declared, sparkling magnificently while posing like a statue of radiant masculinity. "I KNEW THERE WAS NOTHING THAT COULD KEEP YOUR YOUTHFUL SPIRIT DOWN FOR LONG!"

Alphonse sweated profusely, staring at the giant man towering over him. "Um, hello to you too, Major…"

"Perfect timing," Mustang commented. Breda snickered quietly seeing poor Alphonse's distress. Even Hawkeye couldn't suppress an amused smile. "I was just about to call you, Major. Can I ask you a favor?"

"What do you need, Colonel?" Armstrong calmed down, his sparkles disappearing for a moment. Al couldn't help but wonder how on Earth the Major did that.

"Fullmetal needs an escort for his trip home to Resembool."

Al looked at Mustang in alarm. _What?! Him, **again**?! Oh, you have got to be kidding me!_

Armstrong practically gleamed. He thundered: "OF COURSE, I WILL BE HONORED TO ACCOMPANY HIM! FOR THE ART OF ESCORTING OTHERS TO SAFETY HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN THE ARMSTRONG FAMILY LINE FOR GENERATIONS!" He flexed his sumptuous muscles for emphasis.

Once again, Alphonse's mind was in conflict – he didn't know if he wanted to run or strangle the Colonel more.

"But may I ask, why are you in need of an escort?" Armstrong said curiously. "Is everything alright?"

"Well, you see, Major…" Al, although uncomfortable with the arrangement, explained the situation. When he got to the part about the 'Fullmetal Wannabe' apparently copying his style, Armstrong's usually cheerful (or tearful, but in a very _manly way_ ) eyes flashed in anger.

"What?! HOW **DARE** HE DEPRAVE YOUR GLORIOUS IMAGE BY SUCH ARBITRARY IMITATION!" the Major roared, looking positively murderous. Al suppressed a startled squeak. "NO ONE HAS THE RIGHT TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE'S IMAGE TO SOIL THEIR NAME! DON'T WORRY, ALPHONSE ELRIC, WE SHALL CAPTURE THIS AUDACIOUS INDIVIDUAL AND MAKE HIM PAY FOR THIS HEINOUS CRIME!" Somewhere in the middle of the speech Armstrong must have misplaced his shirt, because now his bare arm and chest muscles were tightening in an intimidating way, his entire being surrounded by a dark aura, heavy with a promise of vengeance. " **I SWEAR ON THE HONOR OF THE ARMSTRONG FAMILY TO MAKE SURE THAT HE IS BROUGHT TO FACE JUSTICE!** "

Wow, way to make Al feel sorry for the spy already.

"Thank you, Major, I knew we could count on you," said Mustang with amusement, seemingly holding back a chuckle. He didn't need to see Fullmetal's face to know that the teen was shooting daggers at him with his glare. "You'll be leaving tomorrow first train in the morning. Contact me directly as soon as you arrive in Resembool."

"Naturally, Colonel Mustang! COME, ALPHONSE ELRIC, WE HAVE PREPARATIONS TO ATTEND TO!" Armstrong bellowed and grabbed Al from his spot on the floor, dragging him away.

"Um, okay… Goodbye, Lieutenant Hawkeye, Lieutenant Breda…" The last word sounded more like a threat than a farewell: " _Colonel…_ "

The man smirked, despite being perfectly able to hear the resentment in Al's voice. _That jerk!_ "Have a nice trip, Fullmetal."

After the door closed, Alphonse muttered so quietly even the Major couldn't hear him:

"I know it's my name, but… I don't…" He sighed. "I wish I didn't feel so uncomfortable with being called that…"

* * *

The next morning, rain finally arrived in Central City. For the past month there'd been almost no clouds and not a single drop in the district, which was rather unusual for spring in Central Amestris. The dry, thirsty earth joyfully received the life-giving liquid essence pouring down from the dark-grey skies.

Al could feel it in the air; the relief. It was as if the whole population of the city simultaneously breathed out. Multiple pedestrians were enough at ease to stop and chat on streets despite of the rain, in contrast to almost everyone staying indoors for the past week. With what was believed to be the higher-ups' treason and assassination of Fuhrer King Bradley along with his seemingly innocent son Selim, it was no wonder the atmosphere had been so tense. Everybody had been too afraid to even stick their noses outside their homes. Now, the people were starting to relax and become hopeful again. The initial fear had almost passed – almost, but with the cleansing waters finally here, washing away the built-up tension in the city, there was a promise of new beginnings in the air.

Opening the door of the military automobile, Alphonse practically jumped out, reaching out with his hand. Heavy drops hit his skin and a smile bloomed on his face. He'd forgotten how the rain felt like. Yet again, for the life of him Al couldn't figure out why all those mundane sensations affected him so much, but he was unable to resist taking delight in them. The raindrops were cool, but not unpleasantly so. He was tempted to throw his hood back and face the sky, but he knew he shouldn't risk it with his currently fragile health. Still, nothing stopped him from enjoying the feeling of water falling on his open palm.

Major Armstrong asked him if he needed an umbrella, but Alphonse declined. He already had a coat, and he intended to indulge in the current weather as much as he could.

The train station was surprisingly full for such an early hour, but Al suspected it more had to do with the next train to the South City than the one passing through Resembool. Resembool wasn't exactly a popular tourist spot. Most people had never even heard of it. It was fortunate in a way, he supposed; thanks to Resembool's lack of fame, no one would dig much into his past.

Al looked at the older alchemist, who scrutinized the crowd on their left. Al smiled kindly at the determination to protecting written across the Major's features – Mustang considered Armstrong a capable escort for a reason. Although imposing and more than a little intimidating, he was a good man and truth to be told, Al didn't mind him that much. Unless he was yelling about his family line and stripping from his shirt, that is. The teen may have been able to forgive Mustang after all.

Suddenly, he sensed a pair of eyes on his back. A chill went down his spine and the turned to the group of people on their right. The crowd was thick, but it didn't take Al more than three seconds to find the person staring in his direction. He was certain the moment their eyes met for the second time.

It was _him_.

He was dressed differently, of course. With Mustang ordering a search for a kid in a red coat, it would have been foolish for the 'Wannabe Fullmetal' to keep his previous look. Now, appropriately for the weather, he was wearing a thick brown jacket with a hood, covering his long hair. His pants were also brown, and – if the glimpse of fabric underneath the jacket meant anything – the shirt was light-colored. In other words, it was the exact opposite of the Fullmetal Alchemist's signature outfit. And, a perfect disguise to blend in – no wonder Major Armstrong hadn't spotted him yet. The only reason Alphonse recognized him was the unique color of his eyes… and he was the only person who knew about that.

Al glanced at the Major with slight apprehensiveness. He really didn't want to unleash the vengeful Armstrong on someone who, as far as he knew, didn't do anything truly horrible. Maybe Hawkeye was right – maybe he was just some admirer, a teenage alchemy enthusiast…

On the other hand, Al was curious. He turned back to face the boy.

The distance between the two of them was roughly sixty feet, but Al could still see the other boy's expression perfectly: it was slightly stunned, yet filled with some kind of wonder. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them moving an inch. Al wondered when the stranger would to break the spell by running off again or alternatively, trying to approach him. However, the boy did neither. His eyes flickered for a second to the sky, then to Al's outstretched hand.

Al blinked and looked at his palm. He had totally forgotten about it. He brought the hand back to his side, feeling a little embarrassed. He must have looked stupid, standing still with a hand in front of his like he was begging for money or something.

The boy reacted, but… in a totally different way Al would've expected him to. He _smiled_ at him. He actually smiled, looking at Alphonse with a soft expression like he knew exactly what he'd been thinking. It should've been creepy, having his own personal stalker watching him with a smile on their face. But it seemed so warm, so honest – it was comforting rather than unsetting. As if the strange boy understood perfectly what was going on in Al's poor, baffled mind.

With a swift, firm movement, the boy threw back his hood. Al became even more confused – what was he _doing_? He was risking being spotted by his escort – who, towering over everybody else on the train station with a tiny black umbrella in his hand, was kind of hard to miss. But the kid paid no attention to Armstrong, like he wasn't there at all.

The boy reached out with his right hand, his palm facing up, and lifted his chin with closed eyes. A happy grin stretched over his face, so innocent and unconcerned it wiped away all of Al's previous apprehensiveness. The boy stood still in the rain, apparently enjoying the feeling of waterdrops hitting his skin as much as Al did, if not more.

A similar spontaneous grin grew on Al's face as well, and the teen stretched out his arm once more, deciding in this moment that he didn't care where they were, what other people may think or how silly they looked – all that mattered was the two of them, and the wonderful feeling of getting completely soaked in the spring rain.

Before he knew it, the other boy's golden eyes opened and Al was once again lost in them. There was so much emotion in them, and suddenly Alphonse was overwhelmed with need to understand; to know what those emotions were, why they were there, and how could he connect with a total stranger like this, in mere minutes and without speaking a single word.

However he didn't get to figure that out, their moment interrupted by the loud whistle of the train arriving at the station.

Al almost jumped, abruptly brought back to reality. Judging by that boy's startled look, he wasn't the only one. Al looked at the stranger apologetically.

 _I have to go_ , he mouthed silently.

The boy smiled, but it seemed sad this time, nearly heartbroken. _It's okay_ , he mouthed back and shrugged like it didn't matter, which didn't really fit with that expression.

Al glanced at Armstrong, wary if the Strong Arm Alchemist hadn't noticed their exchange. Luckily for both of them, he didn't. He was focused on the train which sluggishly dragged itself to the station.

One last time, Alphonse turned to the boy, who seemed to have gotten over his brief sadness. _We'll meet again soon_ , his eyes spoke and he waved shortly, turning around and walking away in a moderate pace.

Al watched him disappeared in among the crowd, still overwhelmed and befuddled beyond comprehension.

"Are you alright, Alphonse?" The Major's voice snapped him out of it.

"Y-yeah, of course," Al lied easily. So easily it actually surprised him. Without thinking about it, he had made a decision not to tell Armstrong about what just happened.

It wasn't like he _could_ explain what happened, anyway. Al was so utterly confused it was a miracle he was still walking straight. He could have crashed into a lamppost and he probably wouldn't have noticed for the next seven minutes.

Yet among the puzzled thoughts running through his head, he made an interesting observation. While he'd been looking into that boy's eyes, he felt… no emptiness.

For a short moment there… his emptiness was gone.

* * *

 _A few hours later, back at the hospital…_

* * *

"Colonel, you have a phone call."

"Who is it?"

"They didn't say, but… they requested to deliver this message to you."

Colonel Mustang listened carefully to the code Hawkeye had written down for him.

"It's the emergency military code," he recognized with surprise.

"Are you going to take the call, sir?"

"Well, it's not exactly following the protocol… But it's worth checking out. Get me the phone."

Hawkeye helpfully pressed the receiver to his ear. "Colonel Mustang speaking."

There was a short pause, before a young male voice responded to him:

"Hey, Mustang. I heard that you're looking for me. I want to make a deal with you."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I honestly loved writing this chapter. I wanted to write a heartwarming moment with no dialogue whatsoever for a while now. I finally got the chance.**

 **I know most of you guys are wondering about my other stories updates? Well, I'm working on them. I would have posted them weeks ago, but my life had been rather... chaotic recently. My family member passed away, I moved to a different country again and fought near-derpession. Don't worry, I'm fine now. But it hasn't been easy for me.**

 **However, I am nowhere near done. And I am not going to leave my works unfinished.**

 **Thanks for reading, please review and favourite and follow but most importantly - read on and enjoy! :)**


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